The New York Times has a Memorial Day article whose centerpiece is the photograph of a woman who asked that she be allowed to sleep on the floor beside the coffin of her husband, a Marine who had been killed in Iraq. The author, Lily Burana, writes,

But in this photo — the one that lives on and on online — he merely stands next to the coffin, watching over her. It is impossible to be unmoved by the juxtaposition of the eternal stone-faced warrior and the disheveled modern military wife-turned-widow, him rigid in his dress uniform, her on the floor in her blanket nest, wearing glasses and a baggy T-shirt, him nearly concealed by shadow while the pale blue light from the computer screen illuminates her like God’s own grace.

I believe this photo has had such a long viral life not just because it is so honest but also because it is so modern.

The better world would have been ‘eternal’. Evidence of human grief can be found as far back as the achaeological record extends. It is more than bereavement; more than loss. It is straining forward to catch what has been thrown. For we are never more aware of the weight of legacy than at a graveside.

One funeral that I remember most vividly was the one I couldn’t attend. The deceased had died in Quezon province, a communist guerilla. But I did meet with his mother, a very tall and sober woman, who had retrieved his body from a small provincial funeral parlor to which the corpse had been brought. All she could say was “when I looked into the coffin, he looked so handsome.”

Though we may disagree with the ideology a person may have striven for, there is in someone who goes the last yard for his sincere belief a measure of grace that we can never take from him. People knew this once; perhaps that is why pilots of the Great War saluted their foes as they fell in flames. They had passed beyond our judgment and certainly beyond our scorn.

The contrary view was expressed by MSNBC’s Chris Hayes, who felt “uncomfortable” about calling the men who died in America’s wars “heroes” because it conjoined their deaths to war, which was a bad thing.

I feel… uncomfortable, about the word because it seems to me that it is so rhetorically proximate to justifications for more war. Um, and, I don’t want to obviously desecrate or disrespect memory of anyone that’s fallen, and obviously there are individual circumstances in which there is genuine, tremendous heroism, you know, hail of gunfire, rescuing fellow soldiers, and things like that. But it seems to me that we marshal this word in a way that is problematic. But maybe I’m wrong about that.

Hayes is not so much “wrong” as irrelevant. He doesn’t understand that what he thinks quite literally has no bearing on the truth of what those men did. They marched to their own drummer. The error that Hayes makes it is in thinking that his views can increase or diminish the whys and wherefores of those men’s deaths. That act was a gesture entirely their own. They would have done what they did whether he believed in its validity or not; whether he cared to acknowledge it or not. Shakespeare understood whose views counted at the edge of things: those who knew what was shared. As for the rest:

Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.

So Hayes is free to go. Neither he nor his opinions will be missed. He may return the bequest without offense. What was imparted was for people like the dead Marine’s wife, rich beyond measure with a gift she would fain return. That is what Memorial Day — and its equivalents all over the world are all about — a time when we would give our thanks to those who have run too far ahead to hear.

66 Comments, 66 Threads

1.
Josh

Oh please, the NYT getting all maudlin, this kind of pap is just why Dubya didn’t want pictures taken of coffins, etc. Picture might do more for me without the spectacle of the wife on an air mattress.

As for Chris Hayes, a pox on him too. However, I do share a twinge, that not every casualty in war is a “hero”. Robs us of words when something really unusual comes along.

One or both want to take a look at things and have us prosecute the war MORE aggressively, to better reduce our casualties, I might better appreciate whatever points they pretend to make.

Past green trees newly leaved, new green fields on either side, we marched. Distant white farmhouses, distant dogs barking nervously, cloaks against the misty Spring rain, we marched. North Africa the rumor, Zama the town. We didn’t care. We marched. And sang. Sang because we were young, sang because we were immortal, sang because we were Scipio’s boys.

All the silver’s for Centurions
The gold is for Triarii
And all the sweet young women are
For Publius Cornelius

Publius Cornelius Scipio. We would die, and they would call him Scipio Africanus. We marched, to the sea and the waiting ships.

BRADDOCK

The long swells laid many of us low, but finally, blessedly, we reached the bay and the river. Alexandria at last. We formed up on the quay, a bit unsteadily, still weak from the seasickness. Fifers leading, we marched up King Street, past capering boys and waving and cheering men and women. Braddock was but waiting on us, it was said, before pushing off for the great western forests. Fort Pitt was the rumor, and that meant a long campaign for the Forty-fourth Regiment of Foot, but that was all right, we were young and immortal. The long sea voyage and the longer campaign was a hardship on the married men, but for the rest of us women were a luxury of camp. But that was all right too, for we all loved the same woman, and her name was Brown Bess.

THE HITTITES AND THE PHARAOH

In the forest clearing we made camp, fires flaring into light, the smell of bacon on the cool night air. We thought of home, and of the coming days. The Cilician Gates was the rumor, then south along the coast to Aleppo, where was waiting King Muwatalli and the rest of the army. The weather, thanks to Tarhunna the Weather God, has been fair. Crown Prince Hattusili has told us the Pharaoh Ramses has left Damascus and is marching north, that the fight, when it comes, will be a hard one, for the Mizziri are accomplished warriors. We lay on our blankets, and in the growing dark came a voice, singing softly, an army song, a song a man sings when far from home and family, a song that reminds him of why it is he fights, why it is he dies. Welling up from the darkened field, the voices of the Tuhkanti regiment joined the lone voice, singing of home. Across the fields it spread, to the other regiments, sitting in the dark by their dying fires, until the night was filled with the sadness of young men thinking of mothers and sisters, wives and sweethearts, seeing their fathers in the fields, hearing the crickets and the birds and the wind in the plaintive leaves.

Hatti, beautiful Hatti,
Will I see thee once again?
Will I see the morning sun?
Will I see the evening star?
Hatti, beautiful Hatti,
I can see thee now.

The last line trailed away, the last notes faded on the soft evening air, until in the distance, from the direction of the Golden Aspens, another ubati took up the song, and once again the sad voices filled the night.

Hatti, beautiful Hatti,
I can see the fields aglow,
I can see the mountain snow,
I can see thee now.

We sang the final chorus, all of us, the entirety of the Kussara Division, our voices swelling on the final line. I can see thee now. The last sad notes faded into the night, and we rolled ourselves into our blankets and our thoughts, knowing that sleep will make us whole, knowing that tomorrow we’ll be soldiers again.

The coast road to Aleppo was clear, the Mizzri still far to the south. Rumor was if we hurried we would reach Kadesh before the Mizziri. The sea sounded very near at hand, and through a break in the trees we could see a beach.

OKINAWA

Curiously, the beach looked peaceful. Boats coming ashore as if on a summer outing, no machine guns, no mortars, no arty. Equipment rolling off and onto the beach, long files of men trudging up the beach to the exits, not a shot fired. It was surreal. I found the beachmaster, and he stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Okinawa,” he grinned. Inland, clear in the distance, lay a range of hills.

ZAMA

Purple hills shimmered in the heat hazy distance, the day growing hot. The muted sounds of birdsong and insect hum swirled around us. Across the field, drawn up in battle array, waited the Carthaginians. We raised our shields, and at the order, advanced.

One must respect her grieving any way she sees fit, however nothing in The Times is by accident. It is disturbing to see a newly made war widow clutching a mouse, entranced by a laptop, facing away from the dead, and on a nice comfy mattress. I don’t know what the ‘right’ way to mourn is – she needn’t jump on a funeral pyre certainly – but I suspect a photo that says, “Let’s chip in and buy her an iPad!” may have more hidden meaning to it.

Like Josh, I am somewhat troubled by the use of the word “hero” in that it has in the past, perhaps, 20 years or so served largely to immumize leftists when they talk about war. They carry such a stigma concerning their treatment of veterans during the Vietnam War that it may have cost them an election in 2004. So now they spew their superficial views of war in the specific and general but always remember to pay a passing homage to the “heroes who serve.” The use of the word has been so indiscriminate that like “rascist” it has lost much of its meaning.

I don’t believe that everyone who joins the military is a hero or even everyone who is assigned to a combat area. The ideas of courage, bravery and heroism are to me escalating manifestations of military actions.

Wretchard says perhaps that is why pilots of the Great War saluted their foes as they fell in flames.

Here is a link to a 4-minute video (no sound, unfortunately) of the Australian Flying Corps giving the fallen Red Baron full honors (including an Anglican padre in formal vestments as well as flowers on the coffin and a gun salute) at his funeral in France in April 1918.

And since Wretchard has quoted Henry V, it seems fitting here to post a link to the portion of the 1989 film version in which Henry after Agincourt reminds the victorious Engliah not to boast “or take from God that praise which is His only,” and orders “all holy rites” to be performed for the dead of both sides:

Hayes is proudest of, indeed his whole value system is dependent on, his sense of his own exquisite complexity and subtlety and nuance. Hayes is a simpleton.

“”Strider” I am to one fat man who lives within a day’s march of foes that would freeze his heart, or lay his little town in ruin, if he were not guarded ceaselessly. Yet we would not have it otherwise. If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple they will be, and we must be secret to keep them so.”

The Left have labored long and hard to make America a normal nation. No better than any other and passive in the knowledge that it has been in the opinion of the Left worse than others. They have also worked to normalize the military as part of that process. They seek to demystify it and make it a less threatening component of government and of society. That is why they have pushed so hard to remove barriers to women and gays. That is why they have enforced rigid and confrontational PC campaigns, such as SEAL and Marine prosecutions, that have bound successful officers to their standard. Many here take it for granted that the military will always remain a sanctuary where the real America remains that will help restore society after Obama passes. That is a dangerously naive view in my opinion.

The last phase of the war of the modern world is upon us. And it is internal, intramural, civil. The war of the left versus humanity. In 2008, they thought they had at last seized the commanding heights, that the end was in sight, and they said if you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face — forever — and the face will be your face and the boot will be on our feet.

Sadly, the ONE, turns out to be a thin skinned man of conventional intellect. Their bank account is over drawn. Europe, their model is lapsing into bankruptcy and chaos. The Middle East is on the precipice of the firs of Mount Doom. And even China, which was going to fund the party, may not be able to keep the coolies in line long enough.

If it is any consolation to the nuanced ones, the makers of fine distinctions, it should be this: The dead don’t care whether we honor them or not. It’s more about us, as our identity as a nation, honoring the idea of service and sacrifice.

Here’s a thought for the richly-textured thinkers: have you ever gone to a funeral of someone you didn’t particularly like, or even know? If so, did you console the family or did you hold forth on the “strange ambivalence” you felt toward the departed one?

Yes, I have been to funerals of people I did not know, and of course offered condolences to the family. Perhaps I am insufficiently textured.

I am reminded of a report that, after a terrorist bombing in Israel, Bush called to give Sharon his condolences. Not to ask about the political repercussions or to ask him for restraint in response or any of that, but simply to comfort him at the loss of his countrymen.

I wonder if Hayes believes in anything that he would give his life for? Bottom line what is more important to you than life itself?

It is a good thing to think about your values from time to time.

The Marine in the coffin behind his widow was probably not looking for glory. He did the job he believed in and was trained to do, and he accepted the dangers that came with his job. He was one of the T-cells of our society organism that keeps the rest of us safe from the threats that are always there.

That is what the Left does not understand. The world inside the body of our society is different than that outside. We need those T-cells to be on constant patrol to watch for and destroy that which will destroy us. The Left thinks that we do not need them. Delusional thinking.

A prayer and a thought for the departed Marine and his widow on vigil. They are in our hearts this Memorial Day.

Sometimes, despite its best efforts, the New York Times will print something that is not only true but relevant. Unfortunately there are those who can read but lack all understanding and are committed and bound by their own narrow and bigoted little bubble of a universe and nothing will have any effect on their commitment to vileness.

I read the piece. I thought it beautifully done and moving. NYT has a lot of column to fill. Sometimes something right and good gets in. Their editors are famously less than effective.

What struck me was the level and viciousness of the hatred and vituperation directed at Bush and less only in a numerical sense to Cheney in the comments. No thought to the Marine or his widow. TWANLOC, indeed.

Hayes is rightly of no consequence no matter how many dozen people see him on MSNBC. The legacy of the million or so dead American soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen of the past century renders his voice to a squeak in a hurricane.

Somebody with knowledge pls explain a couple of issues with the manual of arms for the RAForces; The inverted carry arms before the rifle salute and the inverted rifle and arm motions after. US Forces use the same manual of arms for ceremonies as for drill.

I am not positive, but if I remember correctly European, and European descended militaries use a position called “arms reversed” as a sign of mourning, and that was it. The arm motions could be a formalized salute akin to the kneeling hand salute in the “Queen Anne Salute”.

@20 I was wondering why the Marine is watching casually. He must have been too tired for drill stuff. Similar questions are raised here about this award-winning photography, but I’m offended by them… it’s not worth arguing about “window spacing” on Memorial Day.

“War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.”

Nothing which is more important than his own personal safety. . . .”

There was a time when “men” who had such feelings were properly ashamed of them, and of themselves as contemptible, sniveling cowards, not fit to wipe the boots of real men.

In the epilogue to “Tales of the South Pacific”, James Michener writes of visiting an island where there was a military cemetary. A young serviceman was assigned to tend the place, and he told Michener that it was an honor and privilege to have that duty, because “There ain’t nobody here but heroes.”

I attended a brief memorial at my old high school today put on by the local VFW. One young man played the bugle. Another played the bagpipes. The crowd was mostly older folks. We recited the pledge of allegiance. A local boy scout troupe plaid a wreath. An old man recited Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

…………..
The crowd afterwards was invited to join the local unit of the VFW for lunch. I went to starbucks to get some work done.

I’m sorry but the photo strikes me as strange and most unnatural. I’m sorry for her loss but I feel she makes a bizarre contrast between the dignified honor guard, solmness of the casket and the dishevelled mess beneath.

Was she planning on getting some sleep? Why not just pull up a chair? No disrespect but it’s not exactly an image of the stoical wife of the Republic. I found the image of the SEALs dog much more moving.

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One of the advantages of gunpowder weapons was how easy it was to train conscripts in their use. Reloading was a drill that became the manual of arms.
It took a few days to train someone to load and fire a musket. It took decades to learn the longbow and years to learn the pike.
The drill for a flintlock required that a small amount of powder be put in the ‘pan’. That was what the spark from the flint ignited, which set off the main charge. The pan would allow the powder to get wet if it was raining, hence the ‘keep your powder dry’ that is still with us today.
Someone of above average intelligence developed a torch hole (the passage for the flame from the pan) that would allow powder from the main charge to enter the pan IF the musket was tilted in a certain way. The pan could be mostly covered now which helped keep the powder dry. Within a few years, the percussion cap was invented which was a superior solution. The Manual of arms was never changed. AFAIK, it has NEVER been changed. The Marine Guard does the same drill today as they did in 1812.
Some one here that pulled Embassy duty would know more about that.

Let’s hear the opinion of Richard D. Winters, made known to many by “Band Of Brothers”. “I served in a company of heroes.”

He is no longer able to elucidate his remark, but perhaps we can fathom his meaning. Maybe he was refering to all those men of Company E, 2nd Battalion, 506th PIR, 101st AD, that endeavored to perform their duty regardless of the personal danger.

No doubt, faced with immediate peril, it’s quite natural to be afraid, to be scared. What these people do is continue, rather than give flight in response to their fear. They remain. They stand. They fight back. Sometimes temble behind cover, but they do their duty when called upon.

It’s tempting to say ‘they have no choice’. Foolishness! They had a choice when they enlisted. They chose to report. They chose to not feign injury or disability.

That’s what choices are being made by servicemen & women today. They put themselves in harm’s way. It’s quite possible to show cowardice on some occasions and heroism on others. It’s a temporal act. Once done, it vanishes except for results and memory.

To present oneself for service on the field of danger is the first act of heroism.

Moved to tears.
The naked sacrifice and impact to the individual.
Any comment as to the trivality of the word “hero” is indeed sound and thunder, exposing that person for what they are, a cynic of the worst self serving kind.

The photographer needed to light the subject, the widow. The room is much too dark to photograph the “sleeping” widow without a flash. If they shot it without a flash their editor would be wondering what is the object in front of the casket. Not sure if they had they “told” the woman to open her laptop or they just stumbled upon the shot. The photographer may have just “happened” upon her cruising the internet or her email and took the shot. This is what real professional photographers do…they either see the shot or set it up.

I feel for her loss and am sorry that she is grieving. However in my opinion, having been around too many professional photographers is looks too staged for me.

When I was 7 years old my dad was in Vietnam during the Tet offensive. My mom, sister and I were in Tacoma, Washington. To communicate they wrote letters but had also invested in the latest technology. They had these small reel-to-reel tape recorders. I still remember what they looked like and the little cardboard boxes the tapes came in. They would record tapes and send them and mom would listen to them over and over. He came home.

Seeing her in the glow of her laptop where she had kept all of the special memories, photos, songs, communication, made me think of my mom so excited to get another tape in the mail.

I showed the photo to my wife this morning and explained what it was. For a few minutes we could not speak or even look at each other. Then she said “that is what I would do”.

The Marine has what appears to be the white version of a Duty belt with an Eagle, globe and Anchor on the face. When assigned a post as a duty, Marine’s shall remain covered The duty belt once held arms, blade or Firearm even unarmed The belt means the same, It tells others the Marine has a mission.

Marines must wear covers if they are under arms (on duty), or if a superior instructs them to do so. “Under arms” literally means carrying a weapon, although an on-duty Marine in an authority or ceremonial capacity may wear a duty belt instead, as a symbol of being on duty without carrying a gun.

Baobo: please before you make a remark, even a smart ass remark check your facts and the appropriate regulations of the Branch Of the Armed forces you are seeking to slander.
“Stacking swivel, hand and bulkhead, some assembly may be required.”

My posts are being severely misunderstood, despite being clear and reasonable.

I am un-New York Times, not unamerican. My slanders are aimed exclusively at them, not toward any Marine.

If you are going to fetishize soldiers to the point of cognitive blindness, then please go on Chris Matthews’ program and have it out with your thrill-loving doppelganger. I know that I have no quarrel you, and none with our military.

For what it is worth, it can be observed that several folks who post at BC use English as a ‘second’ language. Their posts sometimes express their thoughts just a little bit awkwardly, compared to native speakers.

This, alone, can result in misunderstanding of the intent.

Then, of course, their are those amongst us who just cannot write worth a hoot in any language.

Smash @ 46 – Why? Because, I think, the Left doesn’t at some fundamental emotional level respect truth for it’s own sake.

There is some kernel of significance hidding deep within this opinion. I know it has been discussed here at BC. The jellyfish mentality, sweep by the tides of life with no prefered direction, no immutable standard, no abiding principle. Just what is willed or desired as an approach or outcome. No recognition that nature or God prohibits certain conditions or outcomes. Some things cannot be made to happen however strongly they are ‘willed’ or desired by mankind.

As if even the law of gravity can be subordinated to the desires of the heart. Nature in all aspects can be conquered or at least brought to heel.

Why, we have evolved to such a pinnacle of knowledge and capability, the old rules just do not apply. Lay down your arms and give peace a chance. Oh yeah, we can get rid of police as well, since we have evolved beyond crime.

The data set is so enormous and their comprehension so diminuitive, they cannot discern verity.

KWB@39 The photographer may have just “happened” upon her cruising the internet…

I’m going with the available light theory here.

A lot of commenters seem to have trouble appreciating this woman’s state of mind. More likely she is rereading his letters, hearing them in his voice. Maybe even watching videos he sent her. In previous wars there were letters and photographs. Now it is all on the computer.

“A lot of commenters seem to have trouble appreciating this woman’s state of mind. More likely she is rereading his letters, hearing them in his voice. Maybe even watching videos he sent her. . . ” – sanhetnik

Heroic is enlisting. You do not know, quite literally you do not know, when, how, or if your life will end before your enlistment is up, but you do know the prospect is increased considerably compared to not enlisting. But you do it anyway.
Following that, you may die heroically, or you may be blown up by a mortar while working at a DFAC in a large FOB.
The former is heroic, but so is the latter, as you wouldn’t have been there if you hadn’t written The Blank Check, and signed it, voluntarily.
No, Hayes does not know heroes, and, as our host says, he is irrelevant. Doesn’t even know he’s irrelevant.
IMO, those who spurn heroes do so because at some level they know they could never measure up to even the mildest diffulty requiring courage. So, instead of thinking of themselves as deficient, they discredit the entire concept.

We all value life based on the years lived, and the service to others. War mostly effects the young. And these young are asked or forced to serve by projecting force at the direction of others. There is something about this form of indentured servitude that is tantalizing. I believe it is rightly highly esteemed.

But we all die. And for those touched by a life, there is a loss to be dealt with.

I wonder what memorial day means to a man who personally and/or whose family has never served?

My comment on the cyber stalking – terrorism by Kimberlin thread, the next thread, just got marked as Spam. Let us not leap into paranoia, perhaps I posted to quickly, but this gives pause. Hacking PJM to shut down dissent is the type of thing that Kimberlin’s friends might try.

Here we must be careful to only advocate lawful acts and share useful information regarding legal assistance to those we believe to be falsely accused. For Wretchard, in a country with no First Amendment protection, the risk may be greater. – Reposted here, hope it gets through.

> If you are going to fetishize soldiers to the point of cognitive blindness

Baobo, you are missing the entire point of the article.

I am not a military man and obviously you are not either. To use an analogy, you and I are floating on the surface of this story like a raft on a body of water. The photographs and descriptions in this article are like compelling and interesting waves on the surface. Some bodies of water are very shallow — what you see on the surface is pretty much all there is. Other bodies of water run deep. Sometimes you can’t tell from the surface.

You seem to be mocking the readers here for “fetishizing” the mysteries of a puddle without understanding that these photographs and stories rest on the surface of a deep ocean of emotion, history, honor, ritual, more.

Perhaps you can accept that what you are seeing has meaning that will forever remain beyond your experience and full understanding because you (and I) chose a different path in life. You might at least not be so foolish as to try and explain to people who’ve lived their lives in the deep places under the surface of this story that none of it exists and that they are fetishists, fussing about nothing.

Wretchard’s article is the rare Memorial Day tribute that breaks the surface to reveal a little of what is underneath and I thank him for that.

Yesterday (Tuesday) we came through Seatac (Seattle Airport) At the immigration line the supervisor asked if there were serving members from our plane in the line up. Some stood forward and were given priority to the immigration officers. Almost everybody in the line nodded approval and smiled.

64- I am sorry I am not more sensitive with my tone at times, but I am not going to have my posts twisted into some kind of trolling. Putting aside how or whether the photos were processed, it is only right we also consider their artistry, and of course their origin as I have already emphasized.

The 7 pictures shown here are some the most vile and extreme insults to our military ever published. They are visions of (respectively): people in ovens, columns following death, a judgement in hell, of Steve Jobs as Savior in direct opposition to Christ, Colonel Kurtz himself, … and the last 2 images are of such offense for their psychology and symbolism that I refuse to comment on them.

Did you actually think this newspaper could ever honor our military in an honest manner? Half the art in being a modern artist is not in the work, but in controlling audience response. Millions of people have viewed these monstrosities and seen nothing but love and remembrance in them. To accomplish this, Todd Heisler simply took photographs, while our mind-bending media did the rest.